Selections from the writings of lord Byron, by a clergyman [W. Elwin]. |
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Страница 4
... less common . In three years more , I was better acquainted with that same ; but the first I ever read was in 1806-7 . At school I was ( as I have said ) remarked for the extent and readiness of my general information ; but in all other ...
... less common . In three years more , I was better acquainted with that same ; but the first I ever read was in 1806-7 . At school I was ( as I have said ) remarked for the extent and readiness of my general information ; but in all other ...
Страница 9
... less boisterous spirit than mine . I was always cricketing , rebelling , fighting , rowing ( from row , not boat - rowing , a different practice ) , and in all manner of mischiefs ; while he was more sedate and polished . At Cambridge ...
... less boisterous spirit than mine . I was always cricketing , rebelling , fighting , rowing ( from row , not boat - rowing , a different practice ) , and in all manner of mischiefs ; while he was more sedate and polished . At Cambridge ...
Страница 17
... less , but , nevertheless , was not easy till I had vented my wrath and my rhyme , in the same pages , against every thing and every body . Like George , in the Vicar of Wakefield , " the fate of my paradoxes " would allow me to ...
... less , but , nevertheless , was not easy till I had vented my wrath and my rhyme , in the same pages , against every thing and every body . Like George , in the Vicar of Wakefield , " the fate of my paradoxes " would allow me to ...
Страница 22
... less from fatigue than from chill , having been four hours in the water , without rest or stay , except what is to be obtained by floating on one's back - this being the condition of our performance . I continued my course on to Santa ...
... less from fatigue than from chill , having been four hours in the water , without rest or stay , except what is to be obtained by floating on one's back - this being the condition of our performance . I continued my course on to Santa ...
Страница 25
... less so than before . I hope you govern my little empire and its sad load of national debt with a wary hand . - To Mrs. Byron . Volage Frigate , June 25 , 1811 . DEATH OF MRS . BYRON . My poor mother died yesterday ! and I am on my way ...
... less so than before . I hope you govern my little empire and its sad load of national debt with a wary hand . - To Mrs. Byron . Volage Frigate , June 25 , 1811 . DEATH OF MRS . BYRON . My poor mother died yesterday ! and I am on my way ...
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answer appear bear beauty beneath blood blue break breast breath bright calm CHILDE HAROLD.-Canto dark dead death deep dream earth face fair fall father fear feel fire foes friends gaze gone grave half hand hath head hear heard heart heaven hope hour human Italy kind knew Lady land least leave less letter light living look Lord Byron meet mind mountains nature never night o'er once pass passion poetry rest Review rise rock rose round scarce scene seems seen shine shore sight smile soul sound spirit stands stars stood stream sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thought thousand Twas Venice voice walls waters waves wild wind wing wish young
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Страница 11 - Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness : And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated...
Страница 13 - Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay, The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, The morn the marshalling in arms — the day Battle's magnificently stern array...
Страница 21 - Clear, placid Leman! thy contrasted lake, With the wild world I dwelt in, is a thing Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring. This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction; once I loved Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring Sounds sweet as if a sister's voice reproved, That I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved.
Страница 12 - And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with nature's tear-drops as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave, — alas! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass...
Страница 135 - Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.
Страница 91 - It might be months, or years, or days, I kept no count, I took no note, I had no hope my eyes to raise, And clear them of their dreary mote...
Страница 22 - The sky is changed ! — and such a change ! Oh night, And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong, Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light Of a dark eye in woman ! Far along, From peak to peak, the rattling crags among Leaps the live thunder...
Страница 45 - Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean — roll ! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; Man marks the earth with ruin — his control Stops with the shore; upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, When, for a moment, like a drop of rain, He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown.
Страница 27 - I STOOD in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs ; A palace and a prison on each hand : I saw from out the wave her structures rise As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand : A thousand years their cloudy wings expand Around me, and a dying Glory smiles O'er the far times, when many a subject land Look'd to the winged Lion's marble piles, Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles...
Страница 27 - In Venice Tasso's echoes are no more, And silent rows the songless gondolier ; Her palaces are crumbling to the shore, And music meets not always now the ear : Those days are gone — but Beauty still is here. States fall, arts fade — but Nature doth not die, Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear, The pleasant place of all festivity, The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy ! IV.